


Feather

by elareine



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Crimean War, M/M, Magical Realism, Romance, Russian Mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-04 05:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4127341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elareine/pseuds/elareine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Where am-” he began to ask, only to fall into silence as his eyes opened. It was dark. There was no campfire. Instead, there was a man with a soft face and curling hair, kneeling next to Sidney, and his skin was on fire. Sidney blinked. No, that wasn’t quite true - the fire was under his skin, more glimmer than flame, contained in beautiful feathers. “Phoenix?”</p><p>The stranger raised an eyebrow. “Good evening, unknown soldier.”</p><p>(The firebird is both a blessing and a bringer of doom to its captor. When Captain Sidney Crosby was recruited into the Crimean War, he was not expecting all this.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feather

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gyldenstjerne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gyldenstjerne/gifts).



> Dear Gyldenstjerne, I hope you enjoy your gift. 
> 
> Many, many thanks to PrettyLittlePliers for brainstorming, beta-ing and Russian-proofing this fic. 
> 
> This is set during the last year of the Crimean war. British settlers from Nova Scotia actually were recruited and fought during the campaigns. Many elements of this story are based on Russian fairy tales like "Koschei the Deathless" and "The Firebird and Princess Vasilisa", but knowledge of these tales isn't necessary to understand the story. 
> 
> Additional warnings for mention of war, animal harm and sex work.

_September 1, 1855_

There were five djinns protecting this camp, Sidney noted with a sigh of relief. His generals had been worried that this outpost on the farthest part of the peninsula wasn’t protected against potential attacks by Russian mages and sent him to survey the situation. But djinns were shapeshifters as well as immune to human magic; they would be able to deal with everything the enemy might conceivably throw at them.

He even recognized one of them, a short man with an impressive beard, and greeted him with a nod. They had once conversed during the early days of the offensive when Ottoman, French and British soldiers had marched side by side. This djinn had been the one to explain to Sidney that they had not been created of clay, like humans, but of smokeless fire. Clay magic could not hurt them. This camp was as safe as anything here could be. Maybe he could finally get some rest, sleep more than two hours at a time, even clean up a little…

Behind him, Sidney could hear a dog bark loudly. He felt his heart sink in his chest. For a moment, he considered delaying turning around and facing the situation. Then he squared his shoulders. His father would be disappointed if he knew Sidney was considering shirking his duties.

Turning around, he looked at the massive, 140 pound English mastiff charging at him head on. His face stayed calm as always. “Good day, Private Kunitz. Forgive me for saying I had been hoping not to see you again so soon.”

The mastiff responded by changing into a man and saluting. “Captain Crosby, the General bids me to lead you to the Western shore. Enemy mages are attempting to break the siege via water.”

Sidney didn’t allow his displeasure to reach his face. He was exhausted, but he was also the only water mage Her Majesty’s army had been able to spare from its navy. “Lead the way, Private.”

Indeed, as soon as they had reached the shore, trying to look as inconspicuous as a soldier and an enormous dog might reasonably hope to manage, Sidney could see the magic that was weaving its way through the waters. An abundance of crosses marked it as holy magic; the embroidery was not Anglican or Roman Catholic, such as Sidney was used to seeing, but Orthodox. He didn’t know those strands of Christianity well enough to determine them as specifically Russian Orthodox but in light of the situation it seemed safe to assume so. He supposed he’d have to fight against some Greek priest mages in order to learn how to distinguish them.

Impatient with himself - surely it was his exhaustion that caused him to be so sidetracked - he nodded to Private Kunitz. “Thank you, Private. I will take care of this. Put yourself back at the General’s disposal.”

Kunitz accepted his dismissal with a salute. Sidney did not wait for him to leave before disposing of his boots and coat, wading into the water in just his shirtsleeves and breeches.

The water felt tame and lukewarm on his skin, nothing like the Atlantic ocean on the shores of Nova Scotia. Here, there wasn’t any need to be careful of hidden depths. No creatures thrice as tall as he was were waiting to devour him, not even any mermaids or German Nixen. Here, it was just the humans he had to fear.

Sidney dove under and opened his eyes. Already, the Orthodox mages’ net began to grasp at him, trying to envelop him and keep him under so he would drown, but he didn’t let it bother him. Instead, he began to strengthen the currents, bent them just a bit towards the links of the magic chain that he perceived to be the thinnest and weakest.

Satisfied that the unexpected change in currents would keep the enemy mages busy for the moment, he cast his magic out further, swimming towards the town walls almost unconsciously. The waves that lapped against the boats moored at Sevastopol informed him where the escape attempt was meant to take place. This net was merely meant to guard the boats from enemy ships and drown any unfortunate soul that would witness the flight. There was no one in the vessels yet. Sidney could rip them apart easily, it would take time for the enemy to build new ones-

Ah. He had been discovered.

He couldn’t detect any humans in the water (no living ones, at least - he tried not to mind the many corpses from previous battles), but at least one mage must have noticed there was someone in the water that was refusing to die despite having been held underwater close to twenty minutes now. The priest mages were casting their spell from inside their city, then. That would make it more difficult for Sidney to eliminate them, but after all, they weren’t his target. Their boats were.

The net was beginning to change. It became stronger, tightening its hold on Sidney, and he was compelled to direct the current to pull it away from him lest he would be choked. It was also glowing in more than two colors, so there was more than one mage at work now. Still, Sidney had torn holes into their pattern before they had noticed him, so their attack frequently fell short of its intended strength. It helped Sidney to neglect his defense a little and concentrate on calling the winds above.

Immediately, the energy above and under water changed. A strong gale set in, growing more fierce by the second, accompanied by thunder and lightening, all focused on two little boats anchored at a town in Crimea. Sidney could see the enemy mages hastily throwing up barricades, but the vessels were quite exposed on the water. He was confident it would only be a matter of time before the barrier would brake and the vessels succumb.

Meanwhile, he had to withstand a new assault. The priest mages were tying the net in loops around him, closing any gaps, and Sidney had to move very quickly to escape them. To make matters worse, the net had begun glowing an ominous red. The meaning of the color was betrayed when Sidney accidentally allowed one of the whirring crosses to touch him - it burned right through the cloth on his shoulder. Had he not twisted away immediately, it would have damaged far worse things than his skin. As it was, he managed to grit his teeth at the pain and kept swimming. To generate such heat underwater, the priests must be in possession of some martyr’s relics, presumably of one who had been burned at the stake.

All there was to do was to evade them, picking away at the nets weak points, and praying that the storm would do its job. He couldn’t keep this up much longer; exhaustion was already causing him to slow down.

Suddenly, as if in answer to his prayer, the magical barriers burst and the vessels and pier with them. Sidney, who had been closer to the boats than he had realized, only had a brief moment to rejoice before one of the heavy planks hit him on the head.

 

“How much for that amulet?“ Yekaterina asked, pointing at a small, black stone inscribed with runes for health protection and prevention of conception. It was Evgeni’s most sold article during this campaign. He’d have to procure new ones soon.

Evgeni smiled down at her. “Four rubles, Yekaterina Feodorovna.”

She nodded. “I’ll take two for six.”

He laughed. “Very good. Here.” He wrapped two of the chains up in black cloth. “They will last you for two months. Find a mage to recharge them then, or buy new ones.”

Yekaterina smiled. “From you, I suppose? Oh well, your prices are decent, and Alexandra said they work like a treat. You are much recommended in our camp, you know.”

Evgeni gave a small bow. “Oh no, you flatter me.”

She laughed and took her leave. Evgeni shook his head as he counted his earnings into the small bag that hung on his hips. Indeed, the support network that existed between these women was doing him no end of good. He was willing to bet that sexual diseases occurred much less within his clients’ group than, say, a young lady of gentle origin that was not encouraged to think about what her husband might be doing outside of wedlock.

“Making good money with these, eh, old charlatan?” a voice asked him in French. Evgeni looked up in dismay, expecting some drunk soldiers on the lookout for a quarrel. Recognizing the handsome visage of Major Lord Fleury, Defense Mage of the first order, he relaxed and exclaimed, also in French, “Always you doubt me. But yes, sales are good.”

Fleury snorted. “You have a strong, good hand with the runes, I give you that, but don’t expect me to believe that some great mage would come to this godforsaken place and sell anti-pregnancy charms to whores!”

Evgeni raised an eyebrow. “I could show you. Or you could tell me why you have sought my charlatan self out.”

Fleury laughed. “Point to you. I’d like to send Miss Vera a token along with my next letter. Could you recommend me anything?”

Evgeni smiled. Here was one man who was faithful to the point of resembling a rescued puppy. “Ah, I have just the thing!” He procured an average looking seastone from under his table, carefully holding it in a handkerchief. “A memory stone set on empathy.”

Seeing Fleury frown in confusion, he explained, “When you touch it, you think of her. Then wrap it up carefully. Don’t let anyone else touch it! Then, when she receives it, puts her hand on it, she will feel what you meant to send her.”

Fleury’s face lit up. “That is just the thing! She will be able to tell how much I miss her and-“

“Yes, yes, no need to tell me. That is twenty francs, please.”

Fleury grimaced at that extravagant sum for a token, but as his uncle had provided him with a handsome portion, he paid up without demur. Evgeni took the money and quickly hid it in his purse. No need to advertise such a windfall. Aristocratic soldiers! They never haggled, and no credit to them!

Soon, Lord Fleury had taken his leave, the memory stone sitting happily in his pocket, and Evgeni was alone. He was starting to think about supper. He still had some leftover bread, and with today’s earnings he’d be able to purchase a nice stew.

Of course, that was when he felt the compass on his arm beginning to act out. Hastily ducking out of sight of passersby, he rolled up his left shirtsleeve. The tattoo greeted him with urgent movements towards Sevastopol. His brow furrowed. Did this mean Koschei was – but no, the compass would scarcely be leading him towards a place where he would be trapped, if that were the case. No, there was something else it wished to make known to him.

Ever since he had met the artist some seventy years ago in Moscow (a middle-aged woman with tattooed sleeves up to her shoulders and the biggest brown eyes he’d ever seen, on a search for her long lost love – one day, he thought, he’d discover what her fate had been), it had never failed to guide him towards what he needed. He well remembered the day it had led him, after days of starvation, towards the elderly aristocrat who had gladly fed and housed him in exchange for the health of her young ward. Or that winter it had guided him towards a hut with a compassionate couple of farmers inside. Evgeni had left them a feather, and had never done so more gladly – without them, even he would have frozen to death in those weeks. So he considered it wise to follow the compass’ lead today, even if he could not perceive a pressing need.

First, he closed up his little stand for the night. Then, with one last regretful thought about supper, he set off to follow the little tugs on his skin. He had to tread slowly, for the fighting had erupted again. There had been a magical storm along the coast line, followed by an attempt by several Orthodox mages to break the siege on land. So Evgeni chose to be circumspect rather than direct, taking the long way at times, before he finally, maybe an hour later, arrived at the shore.

With dismay he realized that it was empty but for a pair of shoes and a coat lying abandoned in the sand. The dratted compass was tugging him towards the water. Evgeni _hated_ water.

But that despicable thing was persistent and eventually, Evgeni gave in. Placing his coat and shoes next to the ones already present, he decided to leave his waistcoat and shirt on. He would be able to dry them quickly enough, and they wouldn’t hamper him should it become necessary to swim.

He was already waist-deep in water when he spotted the corpse. A broad-shouldered man, from what he could see, lying face-down in the water. There seemed to be no possibility he was alive, for his face was fully submerged, but still the compass led Evgeni towards him. With a sigh, he began to wade towards the corpse. It seemed distasteful, but possibly it was carrying some item that would be necessary for Evgeni to have? The British forces (for that was what he had identified the coat lying on the beach as) were notoriously understocked in magical items, but you never knew.

Carefully, aware that he was treading where magic had been used no more than two hours previously, he approached the corpse. He could see no pockets or some such from behind, the man’s clothes being of simple army cut. Gently, he touched the corpse’s shoulder, meaning to turn him around, when he was surprised into jumping backwards by the warmth he could feel. The water around them was cold, so he couldn’t suppose that it was just leftover warmth from a body recently deceased, which meant - he made haste to grab the man by both shoulders and turned him around, lowering his head to listen for the sound of breathing. And indeed, it was there, as slow and rhythmic as any human sounded in sleep.

Evgeni shook his head, amused despite himself. What a place to choose for a nap! Now that he was looking more closely, he spotted a small gash on the soldier’s temple. He had been hit by something, then, and presumably passed out. In addition, his right shoulder had been burned quite badly.

The compass was mercifully still now that he had the man in his grasp. Evgeni sighed. Then he slung the not-corpse over his shoulders and made his way towards the shore.

 

When Sidney came to, the first thing he noticed was that he wasn’t in the water anymore. That could mean good things, such as a rescue by his fellow countrymen, or that he had been captured by the Russians. Keeping his eyes closed, he forced his breathing to stay even and took stock of the situation. The flickering lights behind his lids spoke of a fire, which would also account for the warmth. He was lying on the ground, no blanket. Some sort of healing spell was being worked on him, probably originating from the smooth object resting on his collarbones. He was still clad in his shirt and breeches, so there was that, but he was barefoot. That would make escape difficult. But he could feel water nearby, so he hopefully only had to get that far. He couldn’t hear any voices, so he was either alone, guarded by a single man, or by many that were mostly asleep.

“Do not move or the spell stone will slip off,” a deep, slightly accented voice interrupted his musings. Perversely, Sidney felt like nodding in answer. The accent was Russian, so that spoke for capture and the need to escape. Still, better to be fully healed first.

“Where am-” he began to ask, only to fall into silence as his eyes opened. He was on the shore he had set out on. It was dark. There was no campfire. Instead, there was a man with a soft face and curling hair, kneeling next to Sidney, and his skin was on fire. Sidney blinked. No, that wasn’t quite true - the fire was under his skin, more glimmer than flame, contained in beautiful feathers. “Phoenix?”

The stranger raised an eyebrow. “Good evening, unknown soldier.”

Sidney blushed. “Oh, I beg your pardon! I didn’t mean to be rude, only I’m a bit confused. My name is Sidney Crosby. Uh, Captain. Thank you for healing me. Am I captured?”

The man laughed and rocked back on his heels, relaxing a bit. “Just teasing. You are not captured, I do not like cages. Wait until the spell is over, and you may leave. You woke up early.”

Sidney tried to contain his sigh of relief so that it did not displace the spell stone. Still, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from those beautiful feathers and the man must have noticed because he asked, “You can really see them? Few can. Here, no one else can.”

“I have a good sight.” Sidney tried not to sound arrogant, but really. Sometimes it seemed to him that people were blind.

The stranger laughed. “Good sight indeed! But I am not a phoenix. After all, I am Russian!”

“Your English is very good.” Why was that the only thing Sidney could think of saying? He wanted to kick himself.

Luckily, the man (bird?) seemed to find that hilarious. “Thank you, Captain. I had many centuries to learn. I am a Zhar-ptitsa.”

“Tsar...pitsa?” Sidney tried to emulate him.

The Zhar-ptitsa rolled his eyes. “You Europeans always mispronounce Russian and never learn. It means “glowing bird” or “firebird” in your language. As a human, I go by Evgeni Vladimirovich Malkin.”

“I’m Canadian,” Sidney felt compelled to inform him, but he added in the spirit of honesty, “but thank you, Mr. Malkin. I will strive to better my Russian once this is over.”

Mr. Malkin nodded, and they sat in silence for a moment. Then he asked, “So, Captain Crosby, do you merely possess a good sight? The water seemed reluctant to drown you when I found you.”

“Oh, it would never do that,” Sidney hastened to reassure him. “Water and strong weather above it obeys me. For example…” Following an inspiration, he concentrated and gave a wave close to them a gentle tug. It lifted three feet into the air, forming the shape of an elegant bird (how Sidney imagined Mr. Malkin might look in his other form) diving into the sea.

“Hmm, not bad, but my beak is not as big as that,” Mr. Malkin murmured. Sidney looked back at him anxiously, afraid he’d come across as a bit of a showoff, but Mr. Malkin merely seemed amused and appreciative. The twinkle in his eyes was back when he said, “Just teasing! Very pretty, but it’s a bit of a parlour trick for a soldier, isn’t it?”

“Many are afraid of sea monsters,” Sidney explained. “Give them a terrifying shape in a dark night or during a storm and they will flee. Also,” he added ruefully, “it was a fun game to play with my sister. Let’s see who can make the bigger and better shapes - until everyone was afraid to go out to sea, convinced that we must be besieged by monsters.”

Mr. Malkin laughed. “She has the same power then, your sister?”

Sidney wanted to nod, but caught himself in the last second. “Yes, and my mother, too. They are just as powerful as I am, if not more so, but of course no one wished to acknowledge that.”

Thinking about his family so far away made him sad, so he quickly asked, “You are not a soldier?”

Mr. Malkin accepted the change of topic with good grace. “I am a seller of very good and great amulets, Captain. I sell to everyone who pays me.”

“The stone on my breast is one of them, then?”

“Yes. I got it from a healer attached to the St. Petersburg court. Sometimes I trade feathers for goods. I do not have any magic myself.”

Sidney had trouble believing that. Then he understood the distinction Mr. Malkin made. “You _are_ magic, however.”

“Very good.” Mr. Malkin’s eyes twinkled in approval. “But only feathers and pearls. Not like you.”

“I’m only effective in water. Put me on land and I may see what is coming to kill me, but I have no hope of stopping it!” Sidney explained. He briefly considered that he might be too frank with someone who could very well be in the pay of the enemy, but he quickly dismissed the notion. Mr. Malkin had done nothing but earn his trust. “Not to mention those infernal new bullets.”

“New technology gives less gifted people power closer to yours. Just look at Mehmet Ali’s march on Constantinople. No magic, just conviction,” Mr. Malkin replied.

“True,” Sidney conceded, unsure when their conversation had taken such a serious turn, “but I’m not sure we need more things to kill each other with. True, Ms. Nightingale is incorporating non-magic practices in her new-fangled healing tents, and it seems to be improving conditions from what I hear. But the Russian army has three huge burial grounds - three! - on their side alone. As for us, just look at the poor light mages that were senselessly charging into your - the Russian army’s, I mean - bullets. There is much to find fault with, and I fear it will only grow worse.”

Mr. Malkin looked at him for a long moment; Sidney felt himself blush again. He’d never known himself to express such sentiments before anyone but his immediate family. Something about the glow from underneath Mr. Malkin’s skin that surrounded them (and, if Sidney was honest with himself, the warm look in his eyes) invited confidence.

Slowly, Mr. Malkin said, “These are unusual words for a soldier.”

Luckily (or so Sidney was determined to convince himself) the stone in his chest chose that moment to grow cold. Quickly Sidney took it into his hand and sat up. He didn’t even feel dizzy. The stone must have been of remarkable quality, indeed, if it could leave him feeling this well rested.

“I do not currently carry any money on my person,” he said, offering the stone back to Mr. Malkin, “but if you will come with me, or tell me where I may find you, I will settle my debt.”

Mr. Malkin took the stone from his hand but shook his head. “No. You owe me a favour. I will come to collect it when I will need it.”

Sidney nodded, familiar with this kind of payment, especially among mages, and they both stood up. To his dismay he found that Mr. Malkin was a head taller than him. Sidney had to lean his head backwards to see his face, which provided him with an excellent view of Mr. Malkin’s strong collarbone and long throat. To hide his confused appreciation, Sidney asked, “I thought you were here to make money?”

Mr. Malkin looked so amused, Sidney was afraid he’d seen right through him. But he didn’t seem displeased, at least, as he made a wavy hand gestures. “Well, yes, people don’t make much money anywhere else, except the nobility. But it is easier to hide magic where there is a lot of magic.”

So Mr. Malkin was hiding? Sidney decided not to question him. It would be rude. Instead he held his hand out. “Well, I thank providence for sending you my way tonight. I am very thankful to you and you may be sure I will honour your call when it comes.”

Mr. Malkin’s long fingers clasped his. “My pleasure, Captain Crosby. Goodbye.”

With that, he let go of Sidney and left. Sidney shivered, certain that it had just become much colder. Then he went off to find his coat and shoes.

 

Eight days later, Evgeni greeted one of his favoured customers. “Alexandra Darweshiyevna! I hear you have been recommending me to the newcomers? I must give you a discount.”

The lady in question, a dark-skinned, curly haired beauty, smiled up at him. “You reduce me to such prosaic matters, Evgeni? Could you not have at least pretended to have fallen victim to my charms?”

“Ah, but many men have done that before me. I distinguish myself by complimenting your good sense,” Evgeni retorted. It was true, too. The daughter of an East African incubus and a Siberian village beauty (one day, Evgeni would get her to tell him how those two met) had no trouble finding men that appreciated her beauty, but few paid heed to the sensible, warm person underneath. Still, that didn’t hurt either of their businesses.

She laughed. “Distinguish yourself all you want, you’d need to pay me in more than amulets for my services. Anyway: I need an anti-pregnancy charm that is strong enough to resist magical blood on both sides. I’m afraid your last one didn’t quite come up to scratch.”

Evgeni raised an eyebrow but began to search for the one she needed in his packs. ”You are consorting with the mages now?”

“Not them! They are too afraid of succubi. Think I might suck their magic right out of them! Men like to think their power is in their privates. No, a new general arrived to survey the situation. He says he’s not magic, but then he couldn’t help bragging about his weaving, and mentioned something about a magical castle. Drunk, you know.”

Evgeni was careful not to let his movements betray his sudden surge of apprehension. “A mage-general? How interesting. He might prove to be a customer yet. What is his name?”

From the look on Alexandra’s face, he hadn’t sounded all that casual, but she answered: “He’s certainly loose enough with his coin. His name is General Alexander Mikhailovich Ovechkin.”

Evgeni decided not to acknowledge the mixture of dread and resignation that flooded him at these words. Instead, he gave Alexandra her amulet with a steady hand and took her payment in perfect calm.

As soon as she had left, he frantically began packing. His compass was not acting out yet, so he still had some time, and - as if on cue, he felt a familiar tug on his arm. When he lifted it he saw that the compass was frantically pointing anywhere that led away from the Russian outpost. That meant Koschei was now less than a mile away. Evgeni couldn’t rely on that being a coincidence. He’d do better assuming Koschei was in pursuit.

He took a deep, deliberate breath. It was time to call in that favour. How well the compass had done to lead him to the very person who’d be able to help him in his troubles! With no difficulty at all he conjured up the image of Captain Crosby’s broad shoulders and well-shaped legs, his bright hazel eyes, pleasant voice and red lips, and the way his hair had clung to his cheekbones.

In no time at all the compass needle calmed down, settling on pointing at the direction of the siege. Evgeni’s heart sank. Captain Crosby was seemingly once again engaged in battle, and Evgeni couldn’t risk going in that direction, for he would need to pass the outpost, and surely Koschei would spot him immediately.

Cursing to himself he took out his travelling writing set and sat down on his cart to compose a hasty letter. Then he took everything he could carry, locked up the rest, and made his way towards the nearest French camp, the one Fleury had mentioned he was stationed at.

Evgeni was in luck, for the good Major was sitting around a small fire with his fellow soldiers, a serving of gruel and bread in their hands, in the open where Evgeni could quickly spot him.

“Major Fleury!”

The one thus called turned around, clearly surprised to see him. “The charlatan! I’ve just sent off your trinket. I have no need for more presently.”

Evgeni came to a halt in front of him. He had no time for an explanation. “Pray deliver this letter to one of your allied soldiers, and all future trinkets will be free to you.”

Major Fleury looked taken aback. “What - why?”

Evgeni paid him no heed. “Do you know Captain Sidney Crosby?”

The lieutenant nodded. “By sight only. A water mage, yes?”

“Aye, and one that thinks of himself very highly,” one of his fellow soldiers, a man with rather orange hair and beard, interjected.

“Then please see to it that he gets this as quickly as possible.” Evgeni could feel the tugging on his arm become more urgent, so he just pressed the letter into Major Fleury’s unoccupied hand without ceremony.

For a moment the Major visibly veered between amusement and vexation. Then laughter won out, and he said: “Alright, I will find him. Now go to the devil and let me eat my first meal of the day!”

Evgeni froze, waiting to be snatched up by a cloud of black smoke. That hadn’t been what he meant when he’d thought about fleeing!

But nothing happened except for the increasingly confused faces of the lieutenant and his companions. It must different when a non-Russian said it, Evgeni realized with great relief. Then, cursing himself for the delay, he turned around and began to run. He couldn’t stay here, Koschei mustn’t get a hint that the letter existed, or he would intercept it.

Evgeni made for the shore in great strides, wishing he could change into his bird form, but every army present would see in him an enemy object and shoot him down.

As soon as he had left camp he was greeted with Koschei’s pleasantly smiling face.

 _He’s lost some teeth_ , was his first thought. Then resignation took over.

Koschei’s hand was heavy on his shoulder. “Hello Zhar-ptitsa. It’s been a long time.”

 

Sidney was considerably confused when he returned from battle to find two French soldiers waiting for him. The Russian defenses finally showed signs of being broken down, so most soldiers were currently involved in the fighting. Sidney himself had only returned to fetch some bread during a lull in the offensive.

He vaguely remembered chatting with one of them - Lieutenant Letang, if his memory did not trick him - about his plans of emigrating to mainland Canada one day. The other, too, seemed familiar, but Sidney couldn’t place them. He also couldn’t possibly fathom what those two were doing here - they were defensive soldiers in a different chain of command, not to mention in a different army. Still, he politely saluted them. “Gentlemen.”

The two returned the gesture. The one Sidney couldn’t place introduced himself: “Captain Crosby, I don’t believe we have been introduced. Major Fleury. Pleased to meet you.”

Sidney, relieved that Major Fleury spoke English, since his own French had been judged abysmal before, replied, “A pleasure. Lieutenant Letang I remember. May I ask what brings me the pleasure of your visit?”

Major Fleury laughed. “After over eleven months holding this siege, I doubt much causes you pleasure. But I was asked to give you this letter.”

He held out the the item in question to Sidney, who took it gingerly.

“The Russian charm seller, Monsieur Malkin, wanted you to read it most urgently, but we couldn’t exactly follow you into the ocean.”

“No, I see that. Thank you, Major.”

“We’ll leave you to read it,” Lieutenant Letang offered, almost dragging his more curious companion away.

Bemused, Sidney opened the envelope. There, in blocky, shaky letters was written:

_Dear Captain Crosby,_

_Pray forgive me for disturbing your duty. The time has come now to call in my favour. With your magic, find the island of Buyan. It will have appeared yesterday or so._

_Then, go to the oak tree. Buried underneath is an iron chest. Inside is an egg inside a duck inside a hare. Get the egg and shake it with as much force as you can muster. Then wait until my enemy and I appear._

_Thank you._

_Malkin Evgeni Vladimirovich_

Now Sidney became seriously worried. Mr. Malkin had previously hinted at being in hiding. That he now spoke of being with his enemy meant nothing good. Most likely, he had been captured! Of course Sidney owed it to him to break him free. Someone this kind should never be constrained.

The instructions seemed a bit bizarre at first glance, but Sidney was already heading back towards the water, only pausing to ask the quartermaster for a small shovel.

Even after these years of wars, he wasn’t very familiar with Russian magic and magical creatures. The army of the Tsar contained mostly holy mages. Mr. Malkin, Sidney guessed, was a creature of a different, older kind. In a way, he reminded Sidney of the spirit animals the native people in Nova Scotia called their friends. Here, too, Sidney had been kept short in his studies, distracted by the sea around him.

Mr. Malkin hadn’t been frightened of the holy mages, or he wouldn’t have come into a holy war of all places. Sidney mentally prepared to meet mischief of a kind he hadn’t encountered before.

On the shore he took off his coat and boots, but kept his bag with him. He might need a little help. As soon as he was in the water for the second time that day, he sent out his senses. He was looking for an island that had just appeared and was not too close to the shore (otherwise, he would have noticed it); some magical property, surely, if it could move about.

A swarm of fish, several fishing boats, farther away, the fleets of the warring parties, still locked in battle, a siren that was following her soldier love, more fish - there! An island, quite small, but distinctly moving. Sidney dove deeper, and began to swim as quickly as he was able to.

As that was quite quickly, he soon cautiously approached the white shores of Buyan. Carefully, he lifted his head out of the water. He could hear low voices, so he distanced himself a bit and continued to observe the coastline. Soon enough three men, all taller than Sidney, came walking along, conversing in Russian.

The interesting thing was that he could see the air around them change, as if they were creating their own winds unconsciously. On any other day, Sidney would have loved to question them about it (even air or weather mages weren’t trailed by their element like that, just as Sidney wasn’t dripping wherever he went), but now he made haste to dive under and wait them out.

After maybe a quarter of an hour he chanced another look. The shore was empty and silent but for the chatter of birds and murmurs of waves, so he swam closer and stepped on dry land. The landscape was green, but bare, no trees in sight. Deciding that they were more likely to be in the inner part of the island, Sidney set out to find the oaktree. Anyway, the island did not look too big, so he should not get lost.

The grass was soft under his bare feet. The air smelled pleasantly fresh after years spent on battlefields and in army camps. Still Sidney didn’t permit himself to enjoy it. The worry for Mr. Malkin’s safety was too great. What kind of man would he be if he allowed his benefactor to come to harm because he was distracted by the pleasant landscape?

Luckily he didn’t have to go far before chancing upon a small batch of woodland. Hoping to find his oak among them, Sidney sped up, only to find it was a neatly planted circle of oak trees, ten in total, one looking exactly like the other. Frowning, he examined them closer. There was no sign of disturbed earth, nothing to show someone had hid something underneath the roots. Still, it might have not happened recently. He couldn’t afford to just leave them be to search for some more oak trees. But digging around each of these would take up so much time! If only the chest was made of strong enough magic that he could see it through the dirt.

That gave Sidney an idea. His hand fell to his pack and he took out his bottle, already turning around and running back to the water, praying that his footfalls were light enough not to alert the three men he’d seen before. At the coast he quickly drank the last dredges of fresh water that were still in the bottle. Then he refilled it with seawater and ran back.

His idea was simple, if borne out of hope, theoretical studies and an experiment done one very boring day when he was fourteen: If he’d lightly soak the earth with sea water, it should be mixed with his element and should become more see-through for him. He had never before had the need to find something buried, but magical theory stated that mixed elements produced mixed sights. It wouldn’t hurt, at any rate.

And indeed, it took him three more water runs but the fifth tree yielded results: A faint, rectangular glimmer. Sidney dug in, willing his tired muscles to work. Mr. Malkin needed him, might be suffering right now. With that terrible image in mind, he pushed the shovel into the earth with renewed force.

By the time he had unearthed the iron chest, he was sweaty all over and covered in dirt. It wasn’t for reasons of vanity or refreshment that he decided to carry it to the seafront, however. Mr. Malkin had mentioned a duck and a hare, both of which would be much easier to catch in the water.

And so it was. As soon as he had opened the chest a duck sprang out, and would have flown away had the waves not grasped it for Sidney. To his great distaste, he actually had to slit the duck’s chest open with his knife for the hare to spring out, and then repeat the entire process.

Inside there was a hen’s egg, just as Mr. Malkin had promised. Feeling slightly dubious, Sidney took it out of the poor animal’s carcass (what a life to be encaged inside a duck and then locked into a chest!) and began to shake it. Remembering Mr. Malkin’s words, he used considerable force, swaying it back and forth and up and down until he pressed down too tightly and felt it break in his hand.

Well. Mr Malkin had said to wait now, anyway. Sidney supposed the egg had done its job as a kind of magical call sign. After a look at the two animal carcasses and iron chest that were already floating about, he sighed and dropped the pieces of egg into the water, washing his hands for good measure. Some additional waste would not hurt, for now. Sidney would ask the sea to take the remains to an appropriate place later. For now, he wanted to concentrate on the arrival of Mr. Malkin and his enemy.

 

Evgeni could feel the chain around his ankle chafe. The cage rattled and shook, throwing him about this way and that way, but all he could do was bleat indignantly at Koschei.

“Quiet, Zhar-ptitsa.”

If he had been human, Evgeni would have sulked. Being tied up in a golden cage hanging off the saddle of a magical horse ridden by a madman was exactly why he had escaped. If he had to belong to someone, then at least he deserved to be treated better. It had only been hours, but already he longed for the freedom of his human form, being able to walk around and talk to whom he wanted, do what he felt like. He loved his bird form, yes, but what good was a bird in a cage?

At least he could guess where Koschei was flying in such haste. As Buyan came into sight, he couldn’t help but crow in delight. Captain Crosby had kept his promise!

As they landed in a cloud of dust he could see the soldier staring at them in surprise, but there was no fear on his face. Instead, Captain Crosby seemed relieved when he spotted Evgeni. Had he been worrying for his safety?

Koschei jumped off the saddle and stood tall in front of Captain Crosby. From his perch, Evgeni could see everything.

“You are the one that stole the chest, then?” Koschei asked. He was speaking English, to Evgeni’s surprise.

Captain Crosby did not back down, just pointed down to the chest floating a few meters away from him. “Oh, if it’s the chest you wanted, here it is.”

To Evgeni’s surprise (and evidently Captain Crosby’s, too), Koschei just broke into laughter. “Very good, Captain Crosby!” Seeing the other start, he added maliciously, “Oh, I know who you are, water mage. My sources told me about this magician, stronger than the others, very good sight. I wondered whether you are really this good. As of yet, I am not convinced.”

Captain Crosby remained calm. “I’m afraid you have the advantage of me, then.”

“What? You do not know me?” Koschei seemed appalled. “I am Koschei the Deathless!”

When Captain Crosby remained distinctly unimpressed, he added: “As a human, I go by Alexander Mikhailovich Ovechkin, as you English say. You have heard of my achievements.”

But Captain Crosby just shrugged. “I’m afraid not. I was really only informed about the most important and powerful enemy mages.”

Evgeni swore that Koschei bristled at that. “Impertinent! I will show you.”

Then a wall of black dust and sparks of Koschei’s magic blocked Evgeni’s view. He could just make out a wall of water rising and clouds gathering, and then there was the terrible grinding noise of two strong magic forces meeting directly. It took maybe a minute, then the two columns were gone as quickly as they had appeared, and Evgeni could make out Captain Crosby again. He was unhurt. Evgeni exhaled.

This was not quite going as he had imagined, though. Why wasn’t Captain Crosby using the egg to threaten Koschei? Evgeni started looking for the egg, but could only see some lonely shells being gathered back in close to Captain Crosby’s legs after the sudden turbulence before. Had he crushed the egg? But where was the needle, then?

“Now that we are done with that,” Captain Crosby was saying, “I ask you kindly to release Mr. Malkin from that cage.”

Evgeni chirped his agreement, but somehow did not think it would be that easy. They needed the needle for this. Could he give him a hint somehow? If Koschei got to it first, it would all be in vain.

But Koschei was busy laughing at Captain Crosby’s demand to notice the egg for now. “You are in no position to make demands. You do not have that needle, and your water will not protect you forever. This will be fun.”

Captain Crosby seemed confused for a second, then his face brightened up. Evgeni felt like cheering loudly, but held himself back in the last second. That man was bright, if not well studied in Russian ways.

“Oh, you mean this needle?” Captain Crosby asked, and a wave gently nudged it into his hands. Once this was over, Evgeni would have to ask him why his waves behaved so much like dogs. It was okay though. Evgeni liked dogs, when they weren’t chasing him.

Koschei sighed, but then grinned. Evgeni would never understand the joy his owner found in a good confrontation. “Well played, Captain. First measure our powers, then, when overwhelmed by my power, use last resort you kept up your sleeve.”

“I didn’t-“ Captain Crosby started to protest, then he visibly deflated. “Yes. Yes, that’s exactly what I was doing. So. Uh. Let Mr. Malkin go.”

Koschei waggled his finger. “Ah, ah, Captain. You know a deal needs to be carefully phrased. I give you the Zhar-ptitsa and you are his new owner. I get the needle, intact, and you don’t ever go look for it again.”

Captain Crosby shook his head. “My apologies, but that is not good enough. You give me Mr. Malkin or any other English word you’d like to describe him, unhurt, and don’t ever come after him again. You get the needle, intact, and I won’t go looking for it again.”

So precise. Evgeni felt like kissing him.

Maybe he would.

Koschei nodded and stretched out his hand. “Deal. I swear on my magic.”

Captain Crosby took it. “Deal. I swear on my magic.”

Their hands glowed in the colour of iron chains. Then they let go.

Captain Crosby crossed his arms, still holding the needle. “Now, Mr. Malkin, please.”

Koschei chuckled at his impatience, but turned around to walk to his horse and detach Evgeni’s cage from the saddle. “You don’t need to look so cheerful, you little beast,” he told him in Russian, “but that was well planned. Consider me impressed. And that is an honour, coming from me!”

Evgeni screeched back something that was very rude in his head. From the way Captain Crosby was clearly biting back a grin when he turned to him, it had come across as such, too.

“Enjoy your new pet,” Koschei told Captain Crosby, and grabbed the needle from his unresisting hands. Then, with a last whiff of black smoke, he was off on his horse, presumably finding a better hiding place for his soul.

To Evgeni’s delight, Captain Crosby wasted no time in unlatching the cage door and swinging it open. With a cry of joy, he swung up into the air (carefully avoiding contact with the water), ever higher, before swooping down and flying in big circles around the island. The brothers that lived here saw him, but only waved up to him, quite used to Koschei’s visits.

Oh, how it felt to stretch out his wings again! No fear this time of being caught, no terror creeping into the back of his neck, no one chasing him. Belatedly he did remember that he was being quite rude to his new owner, but somehow he didn’t think Captain Crosby would begrudge him his flight. So he stretched out his wings further than they had been in years and enjoyed feeling the wind in his feathers.

Only when he could feel his muscles tiring did he come back down. True to his thoughts, he found Captain Crosby sitting on the beach where he left him, feet still submerged in water, the rest of his powerful form stretched out in the sun. Evgeni took in the way his shirt clung to his shoulders and the flex of muscles in his strong legs, and thought that his human form had certain advantages too.

In that moment Captain Crosby spotted him. A broad grin made his face always unbearably lovely, as if he was rejoicing as much in Evgeni’s freedom as he was.

Evgeni was definitely going to kiss him.

For now, he just swooped down, coming to land next to him. For a second, he re-considered changing – he had no spare clothes here, just his old cage. Then he gave a mental shrug and turned human.

Ah, there was that delightful blush again. Not only did it soften Captain Crosby’s handsome features, but it also told Evgeni that he did not have to worry about reciprocation. But before he could act on that information, he had something important to say: “Thank you. You have fulfilled what you owed me and more.” They hadn’t made a formal, magical contract before (and years later Evgeni would wonder at that, that they had trusted each other on sight, that he had never doubted that Captain Crosby would at least try to come for him), but still. With magic around, one would never do well leaving things open ended.

It took a few seconds for Captain Crosby to drag his eyes up to his face, but then he hastily got up and answered, “It was nothing. You told me exactly what to do, after all.”

Evgeni looked a bit sheepish. “I should have told you about the needle and why it’s important, too. I forgot you wouldn’t know. He’s well known in Russia, but it is difficult to find this island if one is not a water mage with a reach like yours.”

Captain Crosby shrugged off the compliment, apologizing instead: “Oh no, I was lamenting my lack of knowledge about your country! I should have known, really. Or at least made more of an effort.”

Well, Evgeni was not going to deny that. In his opinion, many more people should be studying Russia. Instead he asked, “Do you need to go back to the siege immediately? I have kept you here for a long time.”

A cloud fell over Captain Crosby’s face. “No, I do not think it is urgent. When you were flying, I asked the water. The city walls are partly in the water, and so are many bodies. The city has fallen.”

“Shouldn’t you be celebrating?” Evgeni asked. He wasn’t a soldier, and he liked many people on the non-Russian side, but still the thought made him a bit bitter.

Captain Crosby just sighed and looked down. Evgeni thought that it probably wouldn’t be pleasant to be able to see so many bodies floating in the water, no matter who they were, and was moved to gently squeeze Captain Crosby’s shoulder.

The other man looked up at that and smiled again. “Well, I suppose it means I will be free to go see my family again soon, now that the war is almost over. In any case, I don’t know how this works out exactly, but you are of course free. I release you from all obligations or any such thing that was entailed in the contract between Mr. Ovechkin and me. I only said that to get you away from him, anyway.”

Evgeni was tempted. But. “That isn’t how it works,” he explained gently. “I am the firebird. I am owned. If you release me, I will be caught by the next person who sees me flying, and I will be forced to obey.” He hesitated, but figured he should tell Captain Crosby. “Owning me means a fountain of youth, you know. No aging, no sickness.”

Captain Crosby just frowned. “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer that, still? You’d have a chance to be completely free, at least. If not, we could formally keep the contract, but of course you could just leave and I would just never come after you. We would be on different continents, anyway, so you needn’t be afraid that I change my mind.”

Evgeni just stared at him in amazement. Then he made a choice. “I will come with you.”

“No, that is what I am saying, you don’t need to! Humans shouldn’t own other sentient beings, that is just wrong.”

Evgeni shushed him by placing a hand over his mouth, very much enjoying the freedom to do so, as well as the way Captain Crosby’s eyes widened. “I will come with you to North America, meet your family. No one there will know who I am, so there will be no more hunting. And I will be with you.”

He released the other’s mouth, but Captain Crosby seemed to think it over now. He asked, “What about your family?”

Evgeni’s face tensed, despite it having been a long time now. “Gone.” He shrugged, faking casual. Not something he wanting to think about on a day that turned out so well. “Firebirds are made to be caught.”

This time, it was Captain Crosby who reached out to him, taking his hand in his and squeezing it comfortingly. Evgeni smiled and held on to it.

Captain Crosby took a deep breath. “Two conditions.”

Evgeni blinked, but nodded.

“One, when you want to leave, you leave. You don’t owe me anything. I will not come after you to bring you back if you don’t want me to. You are free to do what you want to.”

“Yes. _If_ I want to leave,” Evgeni corrected him, smiling again.

“Second,” Captain Crosby went on determinedly, “you call me Sidney.”

“Sidney,” Evgeni said, and pulled him closer to finally kiss him. It was a bit difficult at first, because he had to adjust for the difference in height and for his irrepressible smile, but when he felt Captain Crosby, Sidney, respond in kind it was very much worth it.

Even when they drew apart to breathe, they stayed close, and Sidney was looking up at him with something like wonder in his eyes. Evgeni smiled down at him. “It is a very big _if_ , you see.”

That got Sidney to laugh, loudly and a little like a goose, and Evgeni had to chuckle, too.

Once he’d calmed down, Sidney said, “I should probably check on my battalion, see if there are any special commissions before I am send back.”

Evgeni nodded. “I will see what is left of my cart and amulets.”

Sidney seemed very regretful to detach himself from Evgeni. So was Evgeni to let him go. He had been of a mind to fully employ the fact that he was already naked, but this was most likely not the right moment.

“You will have to fly for most of the way, I’m afraid. I’m sorry, I didn’t think to bring a boat with me, and having it float here would take up much time,” Sidney explained. “But if you’d like to, I can send you one once we’re back in sight of Crimea. This way, no one will think to shoot at you. And, uh, maybe some clothes, too.”

“Good plan,” Evgeni approved. Then he paused, deliberately. “But when we go over to Canada, we get on a ship, yes?”

To his delight, Sidney replied “Well, I _could_ swim it faster without much difficulties” with a teasing expression. Evgeni had to step closer and kiss him again for that.

Then he said, “Ah, but a ship has a cabin, and a bed. And we have a lot of time. At least 60 days of sailing, correct?”

Sidney blushed.


End file.
